Girls
by coffeestainsandbiscuitcrumbs
Summary: Santana's first time hadn't been scary. It was easy even. Natural. But now that she was on top of a girl so vulnerable she felt as if she was resting on glass. Touching, caressing and loving a fragile item of such worth that could simply and quite easily shatter under the most delicate of touches.


**Hello and welcome to my first fanfiction on this account! I am also _Mosshh_, if you read my bio you'll know why I have two accounts!**

**This is my first M-Rated fanfiction so please, go easy. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and I'm honestly quite pleased with the end result. I'd like to know what you think too!**

**It is just a one-shot but if you think my M-Rated isn't too cringey I'm happy to write more!**

* * *

**Girls**

With a very precise and guided motion Santana gently slid her finger through glistening soft folds and then slowly, very slowly pushed her finger into the delicate girl beneath her. Soft nipples became pert against Santana's tanned skin and she could feel her own mirroring the reaction.

The whole time Santana edged her finger further she watched Quinn's expressions change. Her eyes were closed and she looked so perfect. Happy even. Her pert nipples became even more so the further she moved her fingers within Quinn. She didn't think that was even possible. Santana didn't think someone could be so unhappy yet so turned on at the same time.

Quinn's mouth opened and she inhaled deeply as if trying not to enjoy what was happening to her. As if she didn't deserve to feel how she was feeling.

Goosebumps ghosted Quinn's chest and neck and on insertion of her finger, she'd felt Quinn tense immediately. However, after the initial shock of penetration had passed Santana felt the girl relax under her touch and she felt comfortable, scared but comfortable.

It was the first time she had ever been scared whilst being naked and _in_ another person. On countless occasions she had had her walls down, been naked and completely exposed, most commonly to strangers, yet she had never felt scared before. Even her first time _hadn't_ been scary. It was easy even. Natural. But now that she was on top of a girl so vulnerable she felt as if she was resting on glass. Touching, caressing and loving a fragile item of such worth that could simply and quite easily shatter under the most delicate of touches.

* * *

"Have you ever _fucked _a girl before?" A girl going by the name of Santana asked the girl sitting next to her who was half slumped over the bar nursing her fourth drink.

The girl in question looked directly up at the rows of alcohol in front of her before slowly turning her head. Green swirls met mahogany. She shook her head and downed her drink.

"No," she deadpanned clearly upset.

Santana's lips curled and a grin crept across her face. Easy target, she thought to herself, piece of cake.

"Okay, so have you ever _been _fucked by a girl before?" Santana asked again already knowing she was pushing her luck deliberately emphasising the words that made most people feel uncomfortable.

This time the girl with green eyes turned to the Santana and just stared for a minute.

"No" she answered as she turned her head away and signalled the barmaid down.

If she didn't ask she'd never know.

"Would you like to be," she paused; waiting for a reaction but when she didn't receive one chose to continue "to be _fucked_?" she waited again, "by a _girl_?"

Warmth stirred in the pit of her stomach. Pushing someone else's buttons was Santana's biggest turn on. Watching a person try and squirm out of a tight situation triggered something deep within her. It flipped a switch. It turned her on.

Santana waited for the girl's reply. She still didn't even know her name. Here she was sitting at her local bar talking to a girl, no, antagonising a girl she'd never seen before just to get herself enough kicks to get through another DIY night. She had talented fingers of course, but there was only so much she could take without getting bored of the same old, same old stuff.

The pretty girl with green eyes sighed before saying, "Why not," and jumped off of her stool.

Santana would have been lying if she had said she wasn't taken aback. She had half expected a slap or a rage driven rant about how she never knew when to shut up. She certainly hadn't expected her crude half serious, half joking offer to be taken up by a girl who clearly had some issues to address.

Santana was stuck in a half trance that was until the blonde spoke again. "Coming?"

This time it was Santana's turn to hesitate, "Are you sure? I mean, I was just joking around, trying to wind you up you know." She stumbled over her words.

The blonde stared empty eyed at the brunette, "I know. But I feel sorry for you."

Santana frowned; this was not how it was supposed to go. "Excuse me? I don't need pity. And especially not from you."

The blonde girl shrugged, "Fine, don't panda for it then."

Santana leapt off of her stool ready for a fight. Several bar occupants turned to watch the scene play out. "You're unbelievable! You don't even know what you're talking about. Why I picked _you_ out of everyone in this bar is beyond me."

The blonde stared at Santana, her expression unchanged. "I don't know why you did either but you're horny and too ashamed to admit that you haven't had sex in a while."

Santana laughed heartily a sneer now replacing her frown, "If that's what you think then fine."

"Yeah, it is, that's why you take to winding up evidently upset and vulnerable girls in hope they have pity sex with you." The blonde raised her eyebrow showing emotion for the first time, "Sweet. Dead attractive trait in a girl."

Santana was shaking with rage. "If you don't shut your mouth I'll knock your teeth out," she yelled completely oblivious to the eerie silence of the bar and the multitude of eyes set on her.

"What, just like my boyfriend did?" the blonde quipped back before turning on her heel and heading towards the neon green exit sign. "So which is it?" she called over her shoulder, no evidence of any emotion lacing her voice, "Knock my block off or fuck my brains out?"

Santana was stunned into silence. Her mouth hung open.

* * *

Never had she felt so bad for anything in her life. She hadn't meant her threat, it was beyond empty. Apologies clustered her head yet her mouth continued to swing silently, but instead of forcing out the words she so desperately wished to say she soundlessly followed the blonde out of the bar and onto the street.

A cab had been hailed down by the blonde as she was already clambering into its back seat. Santana found it eerie how to-the-point the girl was and how sad and alone she really seemed. She was much prettier than Santana had anticipated. By the dim lights of the bar she assumed the blonde was just another pretty face. But as she'd followed her noiselessly out of the bar and to the cab she noticed by the glow from the street lamps that the blonde was a lot more than that. She was tall, slightly more so than herself and her golden hair flowed like honey and stopped just below her shoulders.

Why would anyone want to hurt her, Santana found herself asking?

Silence encompassed the taxi. It was only broken when the blonde announced an address to be dropped at. The blonde looked out of the window refusing to make eye contact with Santana who eyed her suspiciously. The light streaming in from the passing street lamps lit up the blondes face and what Santana first thought was just a shadow in the bar, turned out to be a nasty, purple bruise swelling and growing just beneath the girl's right eye.

Abruptly Santana felt sick and uneasy. A pang of guilt shot through her chest for all of her stupid comments back in the bar. She could have slapped herself. She still would. The girl evidently needed looking after and a friend to confide in, not a batshit crazy, narrow minded, sex driven maniac who took shallow digs at others in hope to make herself feel better.

On arriving at the blondes address she was invited in only by the door swinging on its hinges without being closed. Taking tentative steps Santana followed the girl through the house and into the kitchen.

"Drink?" the girl asked.

Santana shook her head still struggling to find her voice, "No thanks," she finally rasped out.

The blonde girl shrugged, "Suit yourself," she said as she poured herself a shot of whiskey and downed it in one.

Santana stared. Something within her awoke. A burning sensation to know what _and_ how, and maybe even why the girl in front of her was feeling the way she was. She'd been with young girls before, upset girls, girls up for just a one night stand. She'd been with girls who had left after a quick meaningless fumble in the dark. She'd been with girls who promised to stay the night, but come the morning she'd roll over to a cold and empty dip in the bed. Never though had she been with a girl so broken that she was lost for words as to what to say or how to help.

She needed to try though. She had to.

Santana opened her mouth, "What happened?"

The blonde shot her a piercing glare, "Don't pretend you know what this is like for me."

"I didn't," Santana started defensively her voice soft and weak. She didn't want the blonde to think she was putting up a fight.

After pouring a second shot and downing it seconds later the blonde spoke again. "Where do you want it then. The kitchen counter? The couch? We can be classy bitches and stumble up the stairs mindlessly horny to the bedroom if you like?"

Just after she'd finished speaking she threw herself at Santana and kissed her on the lips. Warm, whiskey scented breath filled her nostrils. It was unexpected yet somewhat pleasant. But she wasn't reacting. How was she supposed to react when she could feel hot tears falling against her own cheeks as she struggled to kiss back in the frenzy that was being pursued? Santana wrapped her arms around the now shaking girl and pulled her lips away.

"No," the girl sobbed, "Kiss me!" she yelled, "Fuck me! Fuck me until I'm numb," she cried, tears streaming along her cheeks like rain down glass on a stormy day.

Santana didn't know what to do. The blonde clawed at her neck and kissed her roughly, biting her way down to her collar bone. She sucked on the skin there, just hard enough to leave a mark. Revenge. Santana wanted her to stop and tell her it was okay, but she knew that was the last thing that the blonde wanted. Instead she waited and took what was thrown at her. Eventually, after several long moments the blonde collapsed into Santana's arms as she gave up the fight.

* * *

The blonde opened her eyes to be greeted by the ceiling. How had she got up here? Who was the girl sitting next to her on the bed? Suddenly the memory of just over an hour ago came flooding back to her.

"Sorry," she breathed, "I'm so sorry," she began to cry again.

Santana pulled the girl into her arms once more rubbing her shoulder sympathetically. It was odd how dramatically things could change. One minute she was being a complete moron at the bar to a girl she didn't know, next minute she was holding the unknown girl in her arms while she fell to pieces. Funny how quickly things escalate.

"What happened?" she found herself asking although not expecting an answer.

What followed was the word 'sorry' repeated over and over again, first loudly until it slowly faded to a whisper. It was a monotonous sound of a broken record that was the blonde crumble in her arms, apologising for not just her behaviour to Santana, but obviously for more than she needed be sorry for.

"Shhhh," Santana replied until the blondes apologies ceased, "Take your time, we've got all the time in the world," she said not knowing how else to comfort the girl, "Forever even."

"He hit me," a timid voice replied. "Again and again and again."

Santana winced. If there had been more than one beating and the only visible bruise was on her eye she couldn't imagine what colour the rest of her body was. She shuddered as goosebumps erupted like active volcanoes all over her body.

"Why?" Santana asked despite knowing whatever answer the blonde gave she wouldn't be able to justify the man's actions.

"Because I told him I was leaving him. I wanted out. He didn't like it."

Santana felt herself shaking again, "That's no reason to hit anyone."

"Called me a slut. A whore. Said no one else would want me. He said that he was the only one for me, he was the only one who wanted me," the blondes voice no longer croaked, it was a steady plateau.

"Where is he now?" Santana wondered aloud.

"Gone," the blonde deadpanned," He said if I was intent on leaving then that was fine. I couldn't believe how calm he was. That's when it happened. When I felt my nose crack, when I felt the warm trickle of blood pouring down my face. It didn't hurt. Not at first. The second blow did though. And the third. The fourth," her voice died away. She swallowed hard.

Santana felt tears prick her eyes.

"Tried to force himself on me before he left. Wrenched his zipper down and said that this is what I'd be missing, you won't get this anywhere else, he said. He tried to," she paused, "tried to," but the blonde girl couldn't finish the sentence, the words simply died in her mouth, "but he didn't though; _couldn't_."

"Evil fucking bastard," she spat out.

"I let him do it; I wasn't strong enough to push him off. As he hit me he told me that no one would want me if I was battered. You'll be nothing but a pulp, he told me, and no one wants to fuck a mess. He told me men only want attractive, young girls and that bruises would show I was disobedient. Disloyal. That I didn't deserve to be loved or be happy, have friends or any family."

Santana listened intently.

"My family warned me, but it was too late. I was trapped until an hour ago. I stood up for myself and this happened," she lifted a finger a stroked the side of her face. She winced as her long slender fingers graced the bruising. "No one wants a girl who isn't beautiful. A broken girl. He told me that."

Santana's heart broke. She carefully lifted the blonde up from her arms before leaning forward and capturing the blonde's lips between her own. "You are beautiful," Santana whispered resting her forehead against the blondes her hot breath dancing across the girls puckered red streaks. She leaned in again not sure if she should or not but when she felt a feather like pressure pushing against herself a fire ignited within her heart urging her to be more confident.

Slow cautious kisses quickly became bolder and more passionate. Several minutes passed with the two girls testing the waters. Santana had kissed girls many times before, it kind of came with the territory of being gay, however she wasn't sure the blonde had, and in the current situation she didn't want to push anything too far. The pace of kissing slowed. Instead of being one long continuous mould of lips pressing against one another the blonde pulled herself away from Santana just a fraction and then leaned in to caress her lips with her own. She repeated this several times. Each kiss different. Each kiss lighter than the last.

She stopped.

Breathlessness encompassed the pair for a few seconds until it ebbed away.

The blonde's lips curled slightly. "I'm sorry," she whispered staring straight into Santana's eyes from mere millimetres away.

Santana didn't understand. "You don't need to be, there is nothing to be sorry for."

The blonde shook her head against Santana's. "No, there is. I was wrong about you. Or at least I think I am."

Santana didn't know what to say. She was exactly like the blonde thought she was and she was ashamed to admit it. "You're right actually. I'm a bitch also."

The blonde smiled fully this time and continued to shake her head. "No, no, no," she repeated muttering under her breath, "I think you are wrong."

"Don't be so sure," Santana replied, "I showed you exactly what I was like in the bar. That was me, the true me."

The whole time Santana spoke the blonde girl never once ceased shaking her head. "Then tell me otherwise," the blonde breathed, "Tell me beautiful lies. Make me feel special. Pretty. Wanted."

Santana's heart jolted and she was certain it skipped a few beats. "I can't, I can't do that to you. You deserve better."

"No," the blonde replied, "I deserve you because you can be brutally honest. I want you touch me," she leaned in and captured Santana's lips at the same time feeling out the girl's hand and on finding it dragging it further and further down her body until it rested on the waistband of the blonde girls shorts.

"I want you to kiss me," the blonde continued, holding Santana's hand on her waistband whilst using her other hand to caress Santana's cheek forcing her to look the blonde in the eye.

"I want you to fuck me."

Santana's breath hitched ever so slightly before she spoke, "I can't hurt you. I won't," she pleaded.

"Shh," the blonde comforted, "I know you won't hurt me. You can't hurt me. I'm already broken. But you can help me. I know you know how to feel," the blonde leaned in whispering directly into Santana's ear pushing the girls hand into the waistband of her own underwear "teach me how to feel again," she paused before finishing with a broken, "please."

The blonde girl didn't continue. She waited; she knew what it was like to be pushed into things she didn't want to do. She didn't want Santana to feel the same.

"Okay," Santana breathed back, "Okay," she repeated again.

The blonde smiled and took Santana's lips whilst pushing Santana's hand further and further until her eyes widened as she felt the warmth of Santana's fingers cup her gently.

"Wait," the blonde forced out, "What's your name?"

Santana almost laughed, what a question she thought to herself. "Does it matter?"

"No, but I'd like to know," the blonde asked feeling herself getting wetter underneath the barely there touch of Santana's fingers.

"Santana Lopez," Santana said as she applied the slightest amount of pressure.

The blonde grinned knowing that she was being teased. "So that's the name that'll be pouring from my lips when you make me come," she confessed blushing at her boldness.

Santana opened her mouth to retort but her arousal had started to get the better of her. Instead applying more pressure like she could feel the blonde wanted, Santana retracted her hand from the girls pants and placed it on her hips before pushing her backwards and rolling on top of her.

The blonde's eyes were alight with fervour. "Quinn Fabray," the blonde announced, "You'll need it for when I make you come."

Santana smiled, "it's beautiful."

Quinn obviously hadn't anticipated that as Santana's response because her façade of eagerness faltered. She felt frail again. But when two calloused hands began stroking agonizingly slowly up her sides and over her ribs lifting her top as they went, a different feeling overcame her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. At first she thought it was safety, but no. It was trust. It felt unfamiliar yet somehow she found herself liking and enjoying it.

Santana pushed Quinn's top up as far as it would go and tugged slightly. Quinn understood. She pushed herself up on her elbows and held her arms in the air, allowing Santana to lift the girls top up, over her head and finally, off. Her eyes raked over the girl's body beneath and darted from scar to scar and bruise to bruise.

Quinn shifted feeling uncomfortable as if under scrutiny of Santana's gaze. She made to open her mouth to protest and bring the whole situation to a standstill but she never had the chance because at that exact moment Santana chose to make her move. She dipped her head low and pressed soft, warm lips against Quinn's collarbone. She started from the outside and carefully made her way inwards. And then down before eventually taking a hardened, erect nipple into her mouth and sucking gently.

Santana held Quinn as she did so, cradling her. Both arms snaked around the blondes back holding her at the perfect angle. When Quinn arched her back urging the girl to take more of her breast in her mouth Santana could feel every muscle in the blonde kick into action. She gripped a little bit tighter no longer afraid that Quinn would shatter like glass if she did so.

Santana glided her lips from one fleshy peak to the next making sure to give an equal amount of love to every inch of Quinn's body. Short, ragged breaths could be heard but neither girl could work out if they were their own or the other's. Whilst Santana continued to tease Quinn's breasts she decided to tease her a little bit more but dragging her hand back down to Quinn's waistband just tucking her finger tips underneath and stroking the delicate and sensitive skin there.

Fire erupted in the pit of Santana's stomach as the noise Quinn uttered was almost nonexistent, but loud enough to tell Santana that she was thoroughly turned on. Santana slowed giving attention to Quinn's breasts and pushed herself higher to kiss Quinn's neck all the way up and down her jaw line before placing a dainty kiss on the blonde girl's lips.

They both paused for a moment, the smallest of gaps being held between the girls as their lips hung mere millimetres apart breathing in the others scent. Quinn looked from Santana's eyes to her lips and back up again. A question burned the back of her throat but she wary of asking.

"Go on," Santana prompted before leaning forward and gently nibbling on Quinn's bottom lip eliciting such a soft moan that Santana felt her own eyes close and her arousal level increase dramatically.

"Can I?" Quinn motioned moving her hands from Santana's hips to her shift tugging it slightly.

A smile crept upon Santana's face, "Here, I'll help," she replied pushing herself back onto her knees as she began to undo her buttons.

Quinn sat up too, their position was now slightly awkward but neither girl minded. Santana was kneeling and straddling Quinn's thighs, whilst the blonde sat upright holding onto Santana's hips so as not to fall backwards.

"Stop," Quinn whispered, "Hold me."

Santana stopped and did as she was told; she placed her hands and held Quinn just behind her ribs a little confused as to why. That was until Quinn started undoing Santana's buttons herself, holding her gaze as she did so. One by one the buttons were undone and the atmosphere in the room was surreal. The only noise distinguishable was that of shallow, short breathes of both girls whilst one watched the other in their motions.

When all of the buttons were undone Quinn pushed Santana's shirt apart and just stared for a few moments before tears glazed her eyes. Santana pulled her to her chest and hugged her.

"I've never seen…" she tried, "I'm so wrong…" she cried, "And you're so, you're so perfect and unblemished and he was right, no one will want me. I don't want me," Quinn finished crying into Santana's chest tears rolling down the tanned skin of the other girl's stomach.

Santana continued to cradle the blonde and then almost held Quinn at an arm's length and then spoke, "You are not wrong. You are beautiful. He _was_ wrong and he _is_ wrong because _I_ _want_ you, I want you to hold, to kiss, to…"

Santana was cut off, "To love?" Quinn asked desperately.

Santana gulped quite shocked by the abrupt question. She didn't know how to respond. They'd known each other for the best part of two and a half hours. She knew Quinn wasn't asking for the world but she needed reassurance. Something nagged in the back of Santana's mind, something she remembered Quinn had said earlier on, _I deserve you because you can be brutally honest_, they were Quinn's exact words, and that's exactly what Santana will live up to.

"And maybe _one day_ to love," Santana smiled, "Slow, steady steps, okay?"

Quinn nodded before diving in and capturing Santana's lips between her own and sliding her shirt off as she did so. Once the shirt had been discarded Santana black, lacy bra was soon to follow. Soon enough Santana was on top of Quinn again this time however, the only item of clothing either girl attained was that of their underwear.

They shared fervent kisses in between teasing and caressing the others body. After ten minutes or so Santana slid her leg between Quinn's and slowly lowered her hand to her underwear. She cupped the blonde over her underwear and jut gently held her there waiting for a signal of sorts that it was okay to continue. Their kissing stopped briefly as Quinn said, "Yes," before continuing the assault of Santana's lips, jaw line, neck and to be honest, any inch of skin that she could reach.

Santana pushed her middle finger further down the outside of Quinn's underwear and applied the smallest amount of pressure to Quinn's clit eliciting an audible gasp causing her to bite down hard on Santana's shoulder. A few moments passed with Santana teasing her in that way before Quinn reached down and guided her hand into her underwear.

With a very precise and guided motion Santana gently slid her finger through glistening soft folds and then slowly, very slowly pushed her finger into the delicate girl beneath her. Soft nipples became pert against Santana's tanned skin and she could feel her own mirroring the reaction.

The whole time Santana edged her finger further she watched Quinn's expressions change. Her eyes were closed and she looked so perfect. Happy even. Her pert nipples became even more so the further she moved her fingers within Quinn. She didn't think that was even possible. Santana didn't think someone could be so unhappy yet so turned on at the same time.

Quinn's mouth opened and she inhaled deeply as if trying not to enjoy what was happening to her. As if she didn't deserve to feel how she was feeling.

Goosebumps ghosted Quinn's chest and neck and on insertion of her finger, she'd felt Quinn tense immediately. However, after the initial shock of penetration had passed Santana felt the girl relax under her touch and she felt comfortable, scared but comfortable.

It was the first time she had ever been scared whilst being naked and _in_ another person. On countless occasions she had had her walls down, been naked and completely exposed, most commonly to strangers, yet she had never felt scared before. Even her first time _hadn't_ been scary. It was easy even. Natural. But now that she was on top of a girl so vulnerable she felt as if she was resting on glass. Touching, caressing and loving a fragile item of such worth that could simply and quite easily shatter under the most delicate of touches.

It didn't take long for Quinn to climax. Just a few gentle thrusts of Santana's fingers and Quinn was already on the brink of orgasm. She didn't know if it was the intensity of the situation or how nervous both girls refused to admit they were that got them that much more excited but neither girl cared. Short, sharp breathes took over Quinn's body as her back arched and Santana held her close. She continued her tender ministrations until Quinn tugged at her wrist slightly. Santana slowed her movements before stopping completely and rolling off of the girl beneath her.

* * *

For a few moments both Quinn and Santana stared at the now barely visible ceiling above them. So much time had passed. On entering the bedroom early evening light still pierced the half drawn curtains leaving just enough illumination for each girl to see the other. As Santana turned to Quinn she could just about see the silhouette of Quinn's chiselled features. Lifting her hand she carefully stroked the side of the blondes face before placing one finger delicately on her lip. She waited. A twist of the lips from Quinn and then a smile followed, she kissed Santana's finger.

Quinn opened her mouth to speak, "That was…" she started, but her voice appeared too loud for the delicate situation that encompassed the pair. She continued in a forced whisper, "That was…" but the words just wouldn't come.

Santana pulled Quinn closed to her chest and began to stroke her hair. "I feel strange," Quinn finally whispered.

Santana gulped and panic set in. She didn't reply.

"You didn't listen to me," Quinn whispered not long after she knew that the silence meant Santana hadn't intended on replying.

Santana took a deep breath. She hadn't hurt her, yelled at her, hit her or done anything that she could recall _wrong_, so why was she on the verge of tears.

"You didn't fuck me."

Santana nodded, "Sorry, you wanted me to _fuck_ you until you were numb and I didn't," she replied somewhat bitterly.

Quinn sighed, "I'm glad."

A weight from Santana's chest lifted. "What?"

"I'm glad," Quinn repeated, "He left me numb, yet I feel strange, and if I _feel _strange, well then, I can _feel,_" Quinn finished, "You've helped me feel again."

A sweet smile graced Santana's tired face. "I'm glad," were the only words Santana could find to say until "I'm sorry," followed not long after.

Quinn frowned although Santana couldn't see, "What for?" she asked, not turning to look at the girl and instead continued to lazily draw patterns with her finger across Santana's chest.

"The bar, my language," her voice died away, "for me."

"Don't ever apologise for being yourself because being your imperfections are somebody else's trinkets of happiness," Quinn explained.

Santana once again didn't know how to respond. How funnily the night had turned out to be. She knew she had been downright rude, argumentative and antagonising towards the blonde that was now curled up on her chest falling in and out of waves of hazy sleep. She definitely didn't deserve the levels of arousal she had felt the entire time Quinn had allowed her to touch, feel and love her, that's if love is even the right word, Santana thought to herself.

* * *

No matter how she felt now, and what Quinn thought of her, it was no excuse for her actions and no amount of saying _sorry_ could make up for them.

Time passed slowly for the two girls lying cocooned with the others body. Santana could feel Quinn drifting in and out of sleep. Her lazy doodling of her body would slow as she slipped into the unconscious and on awaking, the finger tracing would start again. Santana however couldn't sleep, she was restless and no matter how much good had come of the situation, it was still not enough good to justify how appallingly she had acted.

Quinn could sense Santana's unsettled thoughts and although she had no words of comfort and still wasn't quite how she felt herself, she knew that somehow Santana's crude words of honesty, had saved her. It is always a long path; the road to recovery, but once on it with a steady hand holding your own, it's a bearable and worthwhile one.

After several hours of shallow breathing and the switching of positions Santana still found herself wide awake. Quinn jerked in her sleep and awoke. She lifted her head and stared at Santana who didn't return the gaze. She could tell she still hadn't fallen asleep just by how bloodshot her eyes were. Tears tracked marks down her cheeks.

Quinn raised her hand and stroked Santana's cheek before turning her head to face her. A solitary tear slid down Santana's cheek. Quinn dipped forward and kissed the salty tear. It vanished. She then proceeded to lower Santana down until her head was resting upon the blonde's chest. Stroking her hair in a soothing motion Quinn spoke.

"If you hadn't have been _you,_ you wouldn't have saved me. Just think of it like that."

* * *

**Thank-you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Leave a comment and let me know what you thought! (:  
**


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